A bullet exploded in the ground inches from his expensive boots. Ace grabbed Blackwell by the collar and held his smoking pistol to the man’s head. “What’s that you were saying?”
Blackwell looked to Ty to save him. “You’ll all hang if he kills me. My men will testify against you.”
Ace’s laugh was edged with menace. “Except, your men are all flat on the ground, with their heads down, holding their hats.”
Blood rushing through his veins, Ty worked to sound calm. “Ace, put your pistol away.”
“He ain't worth hanging over,” Levi said, edging toward his brother as though approaching a riled grizzly.
“He killed Pa and Ma.”
Blackwell laughed, even as sweat poured down his face “Believe that if you want, but I didn’t have anything to do with your folks’ death. If you read the sheriff’s report, you’ll—”
Ace ground the barrel of his pistol against Blackwell’s skull. “Shut your mouth.”
“Blackwell’s innocent,” a familiar voice called out. Boone came riding into their midst like the black Horseman of the Apocalypse, carrying the scales of justice, only in Boone’s case the scales were in the shape of a pair of deadly revolvers.
“How you been, Boone?” Wyatt asked. “Where’s Jack?”
Boone rolled his shoulders and glanced away. “Jack and I ran into a bit of trouble.”
“Not now, Wy,” Ty said. “We aren’t exactly at a church picnic. We best allow Boone to explain to Ace why he should put his revolver away.”
Boone rested one revolver on the saddle horn, but didn’t appear any less lethal. “I’ll explain everything later. All you need to know now is that I came across the men who shot Pa and Ma and they are dead.”
Ty didn’t know whether to believe his ears. “Who were they? Where did you run into them?”
Bitterness glittered in Boone’s black eyes. “Let it rest, Ty.”
Ace stepped back, twirled his pistol, and reholstered it. “Howdy, Boone. What happened to your pretty Peacemakers?”
Boone stared at the rusty revolvers gripped in his hands. “I’ll shoot you all if you don’t leave me be.”
Ty, White Wolf, Wyatt, Ace, and Levi exchanged uneasy glances.
Blackwell dabbed his forehead with his red-checked bandanna. “I told you I was innocent.”
“Shut up,” Ty and his brothers growled.
Blackwell plucked his bowler hat from the snow and inspected the bent rim. “Once the snow melts, me and my men will come up to Sweet Creek to collect the rest of my cattle.” He pointed at the skin-and-bones longhorns. “We caught Wyatt red-handed rustling them. If you don’t want him strung up, you best reconsider my offer to sell the ranch.”
Ty almost choked. “I knew I’d regret not allowing Ace to shoot you, I just didn’t know it’d be so soon.”
Blackwell shrugged. “One way or the other Sweet Creek will be mine.”
Ty straightened. “You will have to kill me first.”
“You don’t know, do you?” Blackwell’s droopy mustache didn’t hide his smirk.
Unease prickled down Ty’s spine. “Know what?”
“There’s five hundred thousand dead head of cattle from here to Cheyenne. Folks are calling this winter ‘the Great Die-Up.’ I’ve been buying up land for a song.”
Ty glanced at Boone, who nodded grimly. “It’s bad as he says.”
Blackwell slipped his hat back on his head. “You best sell while you can.”
Ty dug his clenched fist into his hip next his revolver, partly as a threat, but mostly to bridle his seething hatred. “Keep your money. And don’t set foot on our land.”
Blackwell laughed and sauntered away.
Levi stroked the scar below his lip. “I still owe him for this beauty.”
“I haven’t rustled cattle since Pa and Ma took me in,” Wyatt said, pushing his shock of bangs away from his face.
The blue vein beneath Boone’s eye pulsed menacingly. “I’ll kill him if he gets Wy hanged.”
Ty flexed his knotted muscles. “We won’t give him no trouble, not unless he comes looking for some.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The news of the Great Die-Up and Jack’s death cast a somber mood over the ride back to the ranch. Ty wished he knew what to say to Boone to help.
Other problems nagged. Ty would never sell the ranch to Blackwell, but with the near complete loss of the herd, he might be forced to sell to another cattle baron or abandon the place. The knowledge gnawed at him like an ache from a bad tooth.
Wyatt’s large bay pranced up, acting friskier than usual. “Settle down, horse,” he said, tightening the leather reins, then exhaled a heavy breath. “I’m going to hate leaving you and Miss Ella to manage the ranch alone.”
Ty raised his collar against the swirling wind, but couldn’t deny the truth staring him in the face. Wyatt and his others brothers couldn’t stay. Fifty head of cattle would be hard pressed to support him, Ella, and the boys.
Truth was, he’d have to hogtie Boone and White Wolf to keep them from leaving. And Levi and Ace would have eventually grown restless. But Wyatt had called the ranch home for the last ten years. “Where will you go, Wy?”
Wyatt scratched his head thoughtfully. “I can’t go back to cattle rustling when there ain't no calves to lasso. Not in Wyoming Territory anyways.”
“Don’t you even think about hooking up with rustlers again,” Ty said, his trust in Wyatt’s good sense plummeting.
“I was only joshing you.” Wyatt’s smile faded. “I’ll get on just dandy, and you and Miss Ella will make it. You were meant to be together.”
“Thanks, Wy,” Ty said, chest tight with emotion. “I haven’t given up on our marriage.”
“Miss Ella would be a fool to leave you.”
“Yeah, because eking out an existence with a cattle rancher in remote Wyoming is every woman’s dream.”
Wyatt wagged his brows. “I’d marry you if I was a girl.”
Ty’s lips twitched with a smile. “I don’t know if I can take much more of you trying to cheer me up.”
Wyatt glanced backward. “Boone sure needs some cheering up.”
Ty sobered. “I’ll go see what I can do.”
Shoulders hunched, Boone radiated unhappiness, but who could blame him? Jack had meant the world to him. Ty hated the thought of Boone striking out without Jack’s company. The dog’s friendliness counterbalanced Boone’s remoteness, making him seem less formidable, less flinty.
He circled back and drew up beside Boone.
Eclipse and Black Lightning nickered and bobbed their heads in a mutual greeting. But Boone didn’t acknowledge Ty with so much as a blink.
Content to offer silent support, Ty settled into his saddle and took comfort in Eclipse’s steady gate and the serenity of the Big Horn Mountains.
After they’d put a good stretch of the snowy trail behind them, Ty couldn’t have been more surprised when Boone was the one to break the silence. “The men who killed Pa and Ma shot Jack. The vermin came to the ranch looking for me.”
“What beef did they have with you?”
Boone explained about the Indian girl he’d rescued. “I couldn’t walk away.”
Ty knew telling Boone not to feel guilty wouldn’t help. “Pa and Ma wouldn’t have wanted you to do any different. I never saw them turn away from folks in need.”
“I hoped my staying away from the ranch would spare you. Gunslinging and family don’t make a good mix.”
“Did you hunt down Pa and Ma’s killers or did they find you?”
“They jumped me and Jack in an alley in Cheyenne.”
“Cheyenne? What happened to you heading to California?”
Boone stared sightlessly into the distance. “A bounty hunter took advantage of the shootout to cuff me and hand me in for the reward. Took me a month to get out of jail. The new sheriff in Fielder Nebraska took his time finding the men who could testify
that I didn’t pull the trigger first on Sheriff Reynolds. I’d angered Reynolds by giving him a good beating, after catching him kicking and punching his nine-year-old son. I probably should have stayed away from Fielder after that.”
“But you had to go check on the boy?”
Boone nodded. “The poor little fellow was covered with fresh bruises. I went looking for Sheriff Reynolds, to give him a good beating, but the coward fired at me on sight.”
Ty groped for a reply. “I’m real sorry about Jack.”
A layer of vulnerability marred Boone’s usual hard-edged exterior. “I returned to Cheyenne after I got out of jail. Spoke to a boy and a barber who tried to save Jack. They said he never stood a chance. Bled too much. I couldn’t find where they buried him. I guess folks don’t pay no mind to a dog’s grave.” Black eyes glistening, Boone stroked the stallion’s mane. “Lightning was still at the Crooked J Stables. That’s something.”
Ty sensed there was more to the story. “You never did say what you were doing in Cheyenne.”
Boone’s eyes frosted over. “No, I didn’t.” Then he urged Black Lightning into a trot, and then a gallop, hell-bent on outrunning whatever ghosts plagued him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The spring melt swelled the banks of the Mississippi River flowing past the lavender townhouse, but Maggie was probably the only person in St. Louis not speculating over when the waters would crest.
She stared listlessly out the window of Frank Reed’s office and fingered the folds of the chintz drapes. A dog’s wet nose brushed her hand. She smiled.
Two and a half months after learning Boone Haven had died from wounds sustained in a gunfight, she found little to smile over. Save for Jack.
She knelt and Jack licked her face. “You miss him something awful, don’t you, boy?”
When Boone had failed to return to the Gold Dust Hotel & Saloon the day they were supposed to catch a train to California, Maggie knew something had gone terribly wrong. Racing from the hotel, she learned about the shootout near the stables and found Jack left for dead in a pool of blood.
She’d paid a boy to carry Jack back to the hotel room, though the youth had insisted her dog was as good as dead. And the town barber, who also pulled teeth and doctored animals, was equally sure Jack wouldn’t survive when he came by Maggie’s room to dig out the bullet.
But Maggie had been determined to nurse Jack back to life.
Three days after the shootout, her father-in-law arrived in Cheyenne. He said he’d been frantically trying to track her down since she failed to arrive in Laramie six days earlier and then he delivered the devastating blow. Seems Boone had run into a trio of bounty hunters. He killed two of them, but the third one had captured Boone and turned him over to the authorities. And the Cowboy Assassin had died in jail in Fielder, Nebraska, from wounds sustained in a gunfight.
And Frank knew about her reckless marriage before she’d told him, as it had been the fodder of local gossip. He’d chided her, but seemed less upset about the marriage than the lost reward money and the lost publicity he’d hoped to garner. He told her he’d had a photographer waiting in Laramie to take pictures of her putting handcuffs on the Cowboy Assassin.
Frank hadn’t understood why she hadn’t been able to stop crying and why she had insisted on taking a half-dead dog back to St. Louis.
Her reverie came to an abrupt end when the office door swung open and Frank strode past the mahogany desk and handed her a wanted poster. “I found the next target for Lawman Frank Reed and Female Bounty Hunter Margaret Lily.”
Jack growled like a boiling teakettle.
Frank scowled at Jack. “Be quiet before I’m tempted to make a rug out of you.”
Jack continued to growl.
Maggie patted Jack’s yellow head. “Be good, dog.”
Frank retreated, retrieved a fat cigar from a drawer, and leaned a hip on the desk. “Bobby ‘One-Eyed’ Jackson is a notorious train robber. Think of the headlines.”
She sighed. “You’re a bounty hunter. Not a lawman.”
He waved away the distinction and lit the cigar. “We’ll take a train to Arkansas, then—”
“I’m not going.”
The tip of Frank’s cigar glowed orange. “Why not?”
She swallowed to keep from gagging on the foul odor from the cigar and pressed her hand to her roiling stomach. The ill feeling confirmed what she already knew to be true.
She was with child.
Frightened and awed in equal measure, she was done with her reckless ways. The welfare of her baby—Boone’s baby—would be her compass from now on.
She cleared her throat. “Bounty hunting doesn’t agree with me. I want to be a teacher.”
Frank’s mouth went slack. “A school teacher?”
She didn’t know how she would manage to have a baby and attend school. She didn’t know how Frank would react when he learned she was with child. She didn’t know where the future would take her. But she was sure of one thing.
She would find a way to give her child and Boone’s child a happy, good life. Tears stung her eyes. I wish you hadn’t died, Boone. I wish it with all my heart.
Jack whined.
She stroked his soft fur. At least, she wasn’t completely alone. She had Jack.
Thank heavens, Jack had lived.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The wood shop was quiet, except for the hum of Ace’s and the boy’s voices as they brushed, watered, and fed the horse. Ty set aside the chisel and hammer and examined the fresh-carved letters incised on the wooden cross.
Malcolm Haven. Beloved Father and Husband. Rest in Peace.
A simple but fitting tribute. Pa wouldn’t have wanted anything fancy. Ty would put the finishing touches on Ma’s marker tomorrow.
A slim shadow moved in the doorway. He smiled. “Ella, I was going to come inside shortly for supper.”
She pulled her shawl about her shoulders. “Wyatt told me about Boone avenging your folks.”
“We marked the graves with rock cairns at the time. I couldn’t bring myself to make permanent markers.” He hated the awkwardness between him and Ella. “I’m plumb grateful one of us didn’t go and kill Blackwell. That would have been pure tragedy. Boone’s torn up, blaming himself for Pa and Ma’s death. I imagine he’ll light out of here first thing tomorrow. And—” He steeled himself to spit out the painful words. “My other brothers won’t be far behind. They are all going away. Even Wyatt.”
Blue eyes clouded and sad, Ella rushed to him and clasped his hands. “But why?”
Though it was weak and selfish of him, he wrapped his arms around Ella and rested his forehead against her warm brow. “I’ll be doing good to keep Garrett, Ox, Billy, and Seth fed. If we have another killer drought, followed by another brutal winter, we won’t have any choice but to abandon the ranch.”
She hugged him about the waist and tucked her head against his chest. “See, how can I not adore you? Thank you for including Seth, for not giving up on him. We will find a way to save the ranch.”
His heart thumped faster. “We?”
Her soft hands framed his face. “I love you, Ty Haven. I love Sweet Creek Ranch, and the boys, and I want to stay here with you forever.”
“But what about Johnny, and your Granny Bessie, and—”
“I’ll always love them.” A multitude of emotions warred in her eyes. “But I can’t allow their loss to keep me from living life to its fullest.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. “If I left you and Sweet Creek I would walk through the rest of my life half alive. And it still wouldn’t bring back Johnny and Granny Bessie. I want to be happy. I want to be your wife. I want to make my home with you here.”
He buried his hands in her raven locks and kissed her, pouring all the joy, relief, and passion he felt into the kiss. Then broke away. “The next years on the ranch will be worse than difficult. Are you sure you—”
“Don’
t talk foolish.” And she kissed him, until they were both breathless. “Sweet biscuits and jam, lightning is going to strike us dead if we keep this up.”
He laughed and rubbed noses. “Why do you say that?”
“Carrying on like this next to your folks’ grave markers is disrespectful.”
“Pa and Ma would have liked you.” He kissed her slowly and lingeringly. “I’m mighty partial to you myself.”
Her rosebud lips curved with a smile. “Does this mean you’ll stop sleeping in the bunk room?”
He scooped her off her feet. “Sure as shootin’, ma’am.”
Grinning, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Mr. Haven, have I told you how much I adore your cowboy drawl?”
He stepped out of the shed. The ranch house was bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. “I love you, Ella Haven.”
“Ty, I wish this moment would never end.”
His chest burst with hope. “Me too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
One week after Ella had confessed her love to Ty, her feelings continued to bounce all over. The nights spent in Ty’s arms were utter bliss, but the reality of the near future was daunting.
The Haven men had spent the bulk of their time in the saddle confirming the news of the Great Die-Up. After the difficult winter, they all knew it was true, but had to see it with their own eyes to believe it. The snow receding quickly thanks to the warming spring temperatures, they ranged farther and farther from the ranch, but everywhere they went they found the same thing. Dead cattle, and more dead cattle.
Like Ty, she was hoping against hope his brothers wouldn’t be forced to depart Sweet Creek. Boone had already gone. And all too soon, Wyatt, Ace, Levi, and White Wolf would scatter to the four winds. Today they were taking one last ride to Jackrabbit Butte.
Frowning at the thought, Ella opened the mission-style front door and swept a small pile of dirt out onto the porch.
A horse neighed loudly. She spotted Ty walking toward the barn, leading Eclipse by the reins, the horse limping gingerly on one foreleg.
The Mail-Order Bride Carries a Gun: A Sweet Historical Western Romance (Brides of Sweet Creek Ranch Book 1) Page 14